This is another new day, another new beginning . . . but what makes anyone believe that it won’t have the Same Old Jets ending?

That the last man who left Baltimore to coach our Jets was the great Weeb Ewbank, winner of Super Bowl III?

Uh, no.

Even the great Bill Parcells, hard as he tried, could not shoo away every last ghost, could not deliver that elusive Super Bowl championship.

This is a place, this is a franchise, this is a job that requires a fearless leader of men, a man who, through the sheer force of his personality, can stand defiantly at the door to Same Old Jets then kick it down.

The Rexorcist.

Forty years of the unfathomable. Forty years of horrific luck, if not ineptitude. Forty years without a championship:

Ewbank retired after the 1973 season. The record: 71-77-6. Charley Winner, his son-in-law, was next. The record: 9-14.

Then came The Lou Holtz Error in 1976. The record: 3-10.

Holtz was a college coach who didn’t belong in the pros, didn’t exactly win over the troops when he announced after a preseason game: “I’ve written a fight song. We’re going to sing it after every Jets victory.” The words, to be sung to the tune of “The Caissons Go Rolling Along,” went like this: “Win the game, fight like men, we’re together win or lose, New York Jets go rolling along.”

Then came Walt Michaels, a highly respected defensive aide who announced there would be a no star system, which ushered in the post-Namath Era and Richard Todd as quarterback. Michaels, a hardboiled throwback, was sabotaged by a quarterback controversy – backup Matt Robinson had the charisma and the moxie that Todd lacked. Until he injured his right thumb in pregame horseplay and never informed Michaels – and was exiled to the bench after throwing a costly overtime interception in the 1979 opener.

Todd threw those five ghastly interceptions in Miami and Michaels’ irrational behavior on the plane flight home from the Mud Bowl was the last straw that cost him the job. The record: 39-47-1.

Then came Joe Walton, the highly regarded offensive coordinator who seemed to change the minute he sat in the hot seat. He alienated the players with long, brutal practices that caused them to wear down at the end of seasons. He came off as too insecure, too paranoid. A 10-1 start in 1986 ended with an overtime loss in Cleveland when Walton played not to lose. The record: 53-57-1.

Then came Bruce Coslet, too combative with the New York media. The record: 26-38. Then came energetic rookie Pete Carroll, whose team collapsed after Marino’s fake spike. The record: 6-10. Then came Kotite, adored by owner Leon Hess. The record: 4-28. Then came Parcells, who was 30 minutes from a Super Bowl in Denver. The record: 29-19. Then came Al Groh, who left after one season for Virginia. The record: 9-7. Then came Belichick . . . who left after one day to win three championships for the Patriots. Then came Herm Edwards – you play . . . to win . . . the game. Except he didn’t win enough games. The record: 39-41. Then came Eric Mangini, Mangenius after 8-3, gone to Cleveland after 9-7. The record: 23-25.